Q RS, TUV
by Jerint of Balors Peak
Summary: I decided to write this a while ago when I was sick of the 'Trek reruns, so here it is. I don't own any characters, except the ones who don't appear on the show, or has weirder names than usual. )
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER TWO  
  
"Q, I really don't have time for this; there's a slight crisis here!" Picard fumbled with the pips, trying to control the irrational anger coursing through his veins.  
  
Q (or rather his head, which was sticking through the wall) sighed with the air of someone explaining one plus one is two to an overemotional toddler. "Mon capitan, when will you understand? The universe doesn't work according to your miniscule Federation. It-" Q was cut off by Picard. "I see. It works according to the Continuum's rules."  
  
Q willed himself over to Picard's desk. He sat on it, crossed his legs, waited a few seconds then said, "Honestly, Picard. The Federation chose you to be the captain of their flagship, and you can't even get the uniform on."  
  
There was a small flash of bluish-grey light, and the pips were securely fastened onto Picard's collar.  
  
Picard walked stiffly out of his quarters. The ship shook violently, sending him headfirst into the turbolift doors. Picard rose shakily, then warily entered the turbolift. So far, so good. "Main Bridge." The doors swished shut. So far, so good. The turbolift moved up. So far, so good. The doors opened. Hallelujah, I made it. The Enterprise pitched forward, and he slammed into Worf's console.  
  
Dr. Crusher quickly walked over. "We've hit something, but I don't know what. Are you alright?"  
  
Picard's lip was split, he had a large, nasty-looking bruise on his right cheek, and he had a cut dripping blood into his left ear. "You're the doctor, Beverly. Does it look like I'm alright?" Picard's mood was unimproved by his injuries. Crusher ran some kind of glowing medical rod over his cheek. The bruise disappeared. "Are any teeth loose?" Picard glared at her. "Okay, I guess your teeth are fine." She recoded the rod, then ran it over his lip and the cut above his ear. They closed, and the pain vanished with them.  
  
Picard warily walked to his chair. He was halfway there when everything went black. 


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO  
  
"Q, I really don't have time for this; there's a slight crisis here!" Picard fumbled with the pips, trying to control the irrational anger coursing through his veins.  
  
Q (or rather his head, which was sticking through the wall) sighed with the air of someone explaining one plus one is two to an overemotional toddler. "Mon capitan, when will you understand? The universe doesn't work according to your miniscule Federation. It-" Q was cut off by Picard. "I see. It works according to the Continuum's rules."  
  
Q willed himself over to Picard's desk. He sat on it, crossed his legs, waited a few seconds then said, "Honestly, Picard. The Federation chose you to be the captain of their flagship, and you can't even get the uniform on."  
  
There was a small flash of bluish-grey light, and the pips were securely fastened onto Picard's collar.  
  
Picard walked stiffly out of his quarters. The ship shook violently, sending him headfirst into the turbolift doors. Picard rose shakily, then warily entered the turbolift. So far, so good. "Main Bridge." The doors swished shut. So far, so good. The turbolift moved up. So far, so good. The doors opened. Hallelujah, I made it. The Enterprise pitched forward, and he slammed into Worf's console.  
  
Dr. Crusher quickly walked over. "We've hit something, but I don't know what. Are you alright?"  
  
Picard's lip was split, he had a large, nasty-looking bruise on his right cheek, and he had a cut dripping blood into his left ear. "You're the doctor, Beverly. Does it look like I'm alright?" Picard's mood was unimproved by his injuries. Crusher ran some kind of glowing medical rod over his cheek. The bruise disappeared. "Are any teeth loose?" Picard glared at her. "Okay, I guess your teeth are fine." She recoded the rod, then ran it over his lip and the cut above his ear. They closed, and the pain vanished with them.  
  
Picard warily walked to his chair. He was halfway there when everything went black. 


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE  
  
She is running. Thorns scratch her face, and walls of them try to keep her back, but she pushes through, because if They catch her, she will disappear, just like her siblings and her father.  
  
Something sharp nicks her right ear, and she knows she has done something terrible; terrible enough to anger the Dark Ones, but she doesn't know what, doesn't know why the Dark Ones want to claim her so soon.  
  
She reaches a small clearing, but she doesn't belong there. She should go back, back to where she belongs, but They are where she belongs, soiling the sacred ground.  
  
An arrow penetrates her leg, running through the thin fat and muscle and lodging in the bone.  
  
Sick with pain, she dashes through the trees, but the Dark Ones are closer now; her moments of indecision took too many of her precious seconds.  
  
She suddenly skids to a halt; a canyon suddenly appears before her, dark and foreboding.  
  
She has to go back, has to escape the Dark Ones and the canyon, but they surround her.  
  
One big one lashes out with something; a long, thick bar of pain opens on her back, and she howls, while the Dark Ones laugh, and the big Dark One signals to another, lower Dark One, and he brings something to the big Dark One.  
  
Most of Them hold part of it, and They surround her, holding it high above her, while her blood drips into a spreading puddle on the ground.  
  
The other Dark Ones hold the same things the big Dark One had, and they do the same thing he did, until all she feels is pain, and while she howls in anguish, the Dark Ones holding the thing laugh and close in, and when they are almost stepping on her, they drop it.  
  
It hurts even more, and she tries to hurt the Dark Ones, even though she knows she can't, knows her father...her father always told her..always told her that the Dark Ones.are..superior.to them.  
  
She wishes she'd listened, but wishing won't do anything, and the big Dark One, the One that hurt her the first time, hits her on her head, hard. And the world goes black. 


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR  
  
Picard woke in Sickbay, with one hell of a headache and no memory of a battle with another ship.  
  
He tried to ask what had happened, and why the Enterprise had been shaking so violently, but all he managed was a low moan.  
  
Dr. Crusher's new medical assistant, a Vulcan named Zakal, came over to check on the captain's vital signs. He ran a mediscanner over Picard, checked the results, and handed it to another doctor.  
  
"How are you feeling, Captain?" It was more of a statement than a question.  
  
Picard's throat felt like it was coated with sandpaper, but he managed to choke out, "I'd like some water."  
  
Zakal nodded, ordered a glass of water from the replicator, and brought it back to Picard, who'd managed to sit up, although his muscles felt like jelly.  
  
"Drink it slowly, sir. You sustained serious damage to your esophagus, stomach, and one of your optical nerves. The damage to your esophagus and stomach has been repaired, but you now have an artificial eye. The stress to your body may have aftereffects." Zakal spoke slowly, enunciating carefully to make sure Picard understood.  
  
Picard only heard the first three words Zakal said clearly, but heard "serious damage", "nerve" "esophagus and stomach" "artificial" and "stress" as he would if Zakal were hundreds of yards away.  
  
He took a gulp of the water, and the world swam before him. He dropped back down onto the bed, his headache worse than ever.  
  
"My head.hurts.too. Anything for that?" Picard's thoughts were blurred.  
  
Zakal picked up a medical hypo (spray thingy, I don't know what to call them) and injected the medicine into a vein in his neck. Within seconds, his headache was gone, and he drained the rest if the water in one gulp.  
  
With his thirst slaked and headache gone, Picard's mind cleared.  
  
He sat up quickly. "Zakal, what happened to the Enterprise?"  
  
"We went through a minefield, set by the Romulans. The ship's hull sustained minor damage, now fixed. Sir."  
  
Picard nodded. "That explains it. But you also said something about.damage to my esophagus?"  
  
Zakal showed the closest thing to irritation a Vulcan ever would. "Yes, sir. When you were thrown from the turbolift into Lieutenant Worf's computer console, your esophagus, stomach and one of your optical nerves were damaged. Your esophagus and stomach have been repaired, but you now have an artificial eye."  
  
"Fine. Is it medically safe for me to go to the Bridge?"  
  
"Completely."  
  
"Then I'll go."  
  
Picard left Sickbay, and returned to the Bridge.  
  
A/N I'm not that good at long chapters, so I write loads of short ones! 


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE  
  
"You have the wolf?" Nathan Briggs, leader of the gang known as the "Wolf- Demons" to humans and the "Dark Ones" to wolves, runs his fingers lightly over the ivory carving of a wolf on the head of his cane. At twenty-five, he's caught more wolves for farming and fighting purposes than most skilled scholars could count. And Nathan Briggs has heard of a strong, pure black, female wolf, good for farming, fighting, and breeding. He sends out tenscore** men to catch her. He knows he will get her, because Nathan Briggs always gets what he wants.  
  
"Yes, Your Worship." A tall, heavily muscled man, known as Bullseye for the merchant he killed at a bar steps forward and bows. "We gave her a big taste of the cat, though. She wouldn't stop long enough."  
  
Briggs bristles slightly at the remark: his Demons have ruined more than one wolf in their time. --Idiots!-- he thinks. -Did they expect her to sit still and just let them take her?!?!?!?- But to the Demon before him he merely says, "Bring her in, and we'll see if you've earned your salary and another day to live."  
  
A young Demon, no more than thirteen, cruelly kicks out a frightened wolf, barely more than a pup. Fresh whipmarks adorn her back and belly, there is a dirty bandage on her left hind leg, and her right ear has a small chunk missing from it.  
  
Suddenly the world shifts to the view of the wolf:  
  
She is in a richly furnished room: Multiple overstuffed sofas and armchairs, their wooden legs intricately carved with pictures of wolves hunting, are scattered about the massive room. A soft carpet, covered with complex geometric patterns, covers the entire floor. There are large windows at the north, east and west corners of the room. Dark Ones are scattered about the room, armed with everything from new, flintlock muskets to swords to nothing but themselves, bodyguards to the High Dark One she's been told about. At the south end of the room, where all the Dark Ones are facing, there is a large fireplace, but her view of it is obscured by a wooden desk and a high-backed armchair, where the High Dark One sits.  
  
A young Dark One kicks her forward, purposefully hitting her bandaged leg; she whimpers and tries to move back into the shadows. The Dark One looks to the High One for instructions. He says, "Aaron, the cat-o-ninetails isn't illegal here." Aaron nods, and lashes her forward with the whip. She whimpers and cowers: she doesn't want to die here, without her pack. Aaron flicks her injured ear with the whip, and she yelps and limps forwards, towards the desk.  
  
The High Dark One comes forward and examines her, as professionally as a carver looking over his newest creation.  
  
"You should have whipped her less, Bullseye, but I'll overlook it if you'll give her a fresh bandage. Aaron, get some medical ointment for the scars, and if you can find it, something to make them heal faster. David, get the tapes so we can measure her for a harness and armor. Jessi, get the Wildmage, so we can find out what this brute's pack named her. Now get out of here before I get mad!" He speaks with a mountain-man's accent that she can't place, and he directs his last sentence to all of the Dark Ones, who bow and leave, leaving her alone with the High One.  
  
The world switches back to an outsider's view. (This is now happening in real time--that is, this is essentially the wolf reviewing what's happening to her. It's the same with Briggs. By the way, when the text is in italics, someone's dreaming or remembering something unless otherwise stated)  
  
Briggs knelt, and stared directly into her eyes: He's challenging her, seeing if she'll grasp that he decides what she does, has complete power over her existence.  
  
She seems to, for she only stares back at him with the strangest eyes Briggs has ever seen for seventeen seconds before abruptly looking down and away from him. --Very good, very good. She knows who her master is already. But the young do learn so very fast.--  
  
Briggs gets up and goes to his desk. He searches for something under it, than comes back up with a piece of wood, curved down at the top; two strips of brown leather, the right-hand one with a buckle on the end, the left- hand one with several holes in it dangling from the padded curve and a carved paw at the bottom, and comes towards her with it. She yelps and jumps back, but Briggs catches her.  
  
"You're not getting out of this one, wolf." He says, and places the padded top of the wood directly next to the inside of her bandaged left leg. He buckles the straps at the top of her leg quickly, then steps back.  
  
The wolf tries a few tentative steps, but falls flat on her face. She struggles to her feet just as Aaron bursts into the room with the medical supplies.  
  
Briggs takes the supplies, dismisses Aaron, then gingerly removes the wolf's bandage and applies the ointment to the deep arrow wound. The wolf jerks, but doesn't run. She wants to live as long as possible.  
  
Bullseye enters, holding a bandage.  
  
Briggs takes it, dismisses Bullseye, and wraps the bandage tightly around the wolf's leg.  
  
He ties the bandage tightly, then ties the wolf's leg to the wood.  
  
The Wildmage enters and bows. "You sent for me, Excellency?"  
  
"Yes. I want you to find out what her name is, and tell me the measurements for chest-and-back armor."  
  
The Wildmage walks over to the wolf and says, in the telepathic language of all animals, What's your name?  
  
The wolf's eyes widened in shock. I didn't know humans could talk!  
  
The Wildmage said sternly, I asked what your name is, wolf. Tell me, or I'll hurt you.  
  
The wolf took an involuntary step back. My name is Jerick. Because of the eyes. The black part changes with my mood and other part is as orange as the sun in a human's painting.  
  
The Wildmage rose. "She claims her name is..Jerick, Excellency. Jerick."  
  
Please review!!!! I took forever to write this (Almost five pages!) and it does have to do with the story! This is important background information for a new character!!!!!  
  
Admiral Sundance  
  
PS: Q comes in here soon. He plays a very important part. But you need to understand Sundance's past before you understand why Q---well, I'll let you find out. In the meantime, I'm bushed! I wrote four chapters in a row!!! 


	6. Chapter 6

cHAPTER sIX  
  
The turbolift doors swished open.  
  
Picard lingered in the turbolift a moment, breathing in the familiar smell of the main Bridge. The leather from the seats, the slight piney odor that he had insisted on having after he was used to being the captain, Worf's strange Klingon 'perfume', and the general human smell.  
  
He didn't know why, but he was amazingly happy to be alive. Alive, on the Enterprise. His Enterprise. The beautiful, graceful, glorious Enterprise. They'd been through a lot. She's still strong, Picard thought, still hanging in there. And.she's mine. In some weird way, I feel like the luckiest man alive. I have the Enterprise, and I command her. But not really her. Her crew.  
  
He stepped onto the Bridge.  
  
"Captain on the Bridge," Data reported. Picard smiled. The captain's on the bridge. I wouldn't give much for any Romulans' chances in battle now. Not while Jean-Luc Picard is on the Bridge.  
  
He walked to his chair. Deanna looked at him with her sensitive, deep brown eyes. "I feel it to, captain. Everyone does. The near brush with death has left everyone feeling happy to be alive."  
  
Picard frowned. "Near brush with death?"  
  
--What the hell? Something's wrong.--  
  
Deanna looked mildly surprised. "The battle. With the Klingons. The rebel band. You just commanded your way through a good battle." --This calls for stronger language. I need to know what going on. Tact, Jean-Luc, tact.--  
  
"Then, tell me, Deanna, why was I in Sickbay?" "You had a slight headache."  
  
"But Zakal told me we went through a Romulan minefield."  
  
Deanna looked confused. "Captain, who is this.Zakal?"  
  
"Beverly's new medical assistant. He transferred here a week ago." --Remember, Deanna, he gave you that scale carving of the Enterprise made out of chocolate. You loved in more ways than one.-- "Captain, Zakal died in battle three weeks ago. He was in Security. A lieutenant commander." --Shit.-- "Maybe I should go back to Sickbay."  
  
"Captain, why would you want to do that?"  
  
"I thought we went through a minefield, and it's a battle. If I don't know what's going on, how can I respond to any threats?" --Ah, a glimmer of intelligence. What a surprise. DAMMIT, Q, GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!!!-- "Captain, we're docked at Starbase 100639 AT. What threats could possibly arise?"  
  
"Damn." Picard whispered, all residual traces of his earlier euphoria gone. He had no idea of what was going on. Minefields, Klingon rebels and Starbases had nothing in common.  
  
And if he was going mad-but how could he be going mad? He'd seen an insane person once, when he was a small child. He'd had rips in his tattered clothing and skin, and he was holding a long, sharp steel knife, gesticulating with it wildly and screaming curses. His hair had been brown with silver streaks going down the sides, ratty and snarled. His face had been bright red. And he looked so lost and confused. The police and civilians gathering around him and shouting were terrifying him; even at 2 and a half Picard understood that. And he'd decided that he'd help him any way he could, though his method of helping was something coming on that he couldn't control. He'd cried.  
  
His mother had picked him and tried to soothe him, not realizing that it was help for both Picard and the insane man, but though he calmed quickly, the insane man had the attention off him. He walked calmly to one of the police, gave her his knife, and walked calmly to the restraining officers.  
  
He only remembered that because Lwuxana Troi had stimulated that memory. But it consoled him slightly. He wasn't insane. He was-flash-in a-a bar?  
  
Picard whirled around, looking for a familiar face. But in the choking smoke he couldn't get precise enough details. Calm down, Jean-Luc. Go outside, try not to step on any tails or feet, keep your eyes averted, just in case, and walk outside. Damn, these clothes hurt.  
  
A/N So, whaddaya think? Took me forever to get this. It's pretty dark now, but it turns from 9B to about 2B in the next chapters. For those non- artists, 9B is the darkest grade of pencil. 2B is the fifth lightest. 


End file.
